Gryffindor's Golden Girl
by Laureen Lycan
Summary: Hermione sits in class comtemplating her feelings for someone.


Gryffindor's Golden Girl  
  
  
  
A/N: Something I haven't really written before, though have wanted to.  
  
  
  
She stared at him in class.  
  
He's beautiful.  
  
You berate yourself the minute the thought enters your mind.  
  
The students around you chatter, the sound of quills on parchment seems to thunder in your ears, and his soft, soothing voice slithers around the room.  
  
You get goosebumps, but somehow, you know they're not from the cold. You remember long, lonely nights, where the sleep you lost nearly equalled the amount of tears lost. Almost.  
  
You feel a burning rush of hate toward this man for a second. Only a split- second.  
  
It is not a good feeling hating the man you love.  
  
Tears fill up your eyes, but you fight them back, focusing instead on the assignment in front of you.  
  
But how can you help it? You look up, as you knew you would, and catch him, the object of all your dreams and admirations, in your vision. You take him in; his grace, his stature, the way he would glide smoothly across the room, praising one side, berating another.  
  
His hair, you noticed, had a way of falling across his eyes. You memorized this, yes, along with the way he would always lift up his hand (that beautiful hand.) and in annoyance, push it aside.  
  
His eyes were deep pools you feel yourself drown in. You catch his eye for a moment, only for a moment. He narrows his eyes and you break away.  
  
You bury your head in your hands, taking in a breath.  
  
Mistake.  
  
Ron looks over at you. Kind Ron, gentle Ron. Ron your best friend for these past seven years. Ron who has had a crush on you for the past four.  
  
You immediately put on a face and smile at him reassuringly. He smiles at you.eyes linger on your face perhaps a fraction of a second longer than they need to. And you return your gaze to Him.  
  
Something's wrong.then you realize what it is. He had been watching you. He still looks at you now. He raises his eyebrows and breaks the stare.  
  
A wave of regret hits you.  
  
He knows! You think in a panic.  
  
You berate yourself soon afterwards. Of course he wouldn't know! You haven't given any signs.he has no reason to suspect this of you.  
  
You.Hogwart's prefect, er.perfect.headgirl. The brightest of the bright! Gryffindor's Golden Girl! Ha. You would NEVER fall for a professor.  
  
Much less him.  
  
You watch him when you think he's not looking. When he picks up his wand and "writes" on the board is most convenient.  
  
So beautiful.  
  
You feel that all-too-familiar pang of longing and pain. A mixture of bliss, torture, and anxiety all in one blow.  
  
You tear your eyes away from him.  
  
You want to look back, but you won't let yourself.  
  
I love him, you think angrily to yourself. And I can't even look at him.  
  
Terror seizes you at the next moment once you've realized your fatal mistake.  
  
No! I don't love him! you tell yourself. I just made a mistake.yes.  
  
You've been denying it how long? Don't fool yourself, girl. How can you look at the man and not? How is it possible you can sit in his classroom every other day, listen to his lectures, watch him movements, his grace, his skill.and not love him?  
  
You look up at him, his eyes meet yours.and your heart melts. Why deny it any longer? Admit it.  
  
The bell rings.  
  
I love him, you think as you slowly stand up.  
  
I love him, you think as Ron and Harry rush off to your next class.  
  
"Miss Granger." The rest of the class has left. You and him remain alone.  
  
You slowly turn on your heel toward him, your heart nearly stopping.  
  
"I am afraid I must ask you to spend less time day-dreaming and more time in paying attention in my classroom," he states in that silky voice that sends a tendril of bliss curling around your heart.  
  
You hesitate.  
  
You look him in the eyes. Those deep, black eyes that you lose yourself so often in.  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor," you whisper softly.  
  
He looks at you with something like respect in his eyes. Respect that he always seems to hint at in that subtle way of his.  
  
"Just don't let it happen again, Miss Granger."  
  
You nod, turn, and walk out that door slowly.  
  
I love him, you think.  
  
And you do.  
  
You really do love Severus Snape.  
  
  
  
A/N: I realize I haven't been posting a lot. But for those of you waiting for You Haven't.Remus Lupin and are waiting for the next chapter, you might want to check out Plight of the Werewolf while you're waiting. I haven't had a lot of time to write lately. 


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